


Drowse

by TheNightComesDown



Series: Can't Live Without You // Queen One-Shots [3]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: 1970s, Alternate Universe - Bands, Brian May x Reader Fluff, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Fluff, News of the World Tour, Queen AU, Queen Fic, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-26 16:30:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18286037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNightComesDown/pseuds/TheNightComesDown
Summary: After going to watch your brother Roger's concert in NYC, you get kicked out of the room you were supposed to share and end up spending the night with his bandmate, Brian.





	Drowse

**Author's Note:**

> Just a cute little one-shot I decided to work on today. Characters can be seen as either the guys themselves or as Gwil!Brian, Ben!Roger, Rami!Freddie and Joe!John. Inspired/prompted a bit by "Bed Sharing", a fic by tumblr user @brian-roger-deaky-and-fred!

The club was packed after the show; you’d never seen a place so full of people. It smelled of spilled vodka and sweaty bodies, and was incredibly warm; even the ceiling fans going full-tilt couldn’t keep the temperature down. Your brother, Roger Taylor, had girls hanging off him, as did Freddie. However, Freddie appeared almost embarrassed by the attention; your brother revelled in it. You watched them from afar, leaning against the table Brian and John had secured to hold drinks .

“Can I grab you a drink, Y/N?” John offered, raising his voice to a yell so you could hear him above the crowd. Some obscure rock band was playing at the front of the stage, and was clearly taking pointers from The Who when it came to the volume of their amplifiers. You were sure your ears would be ringing for days. 

“Just a ginger ale,” you requested, leaning across the table. “I’m all liquored out for the night.” He nodded and wandered off towards the bar counter, returning a few minutes later with a fresh beer for Brian, a ginger ale for you, and a rum and Coke for himself that appeared to have a suspiciously small amount of Coke. 

“Does he ever get tired of all that attention?” you asked Brian, pointing towards your brother and the gaggle of hens around him. None of them were dressed for the cool December weather, you noticed. Their midriffs and thighs were exposed, despite the temperatures outside dipping into the low single digits. 

“When he’s not absolutely pissed, he really isn’t like this,” Brian shrugged, sipping at his drink. “And only ever on tour, never at home.” You wondered what Roger’s girlfriend would think if she were here. Really, though, it was none of your business. You were mostly just concerned about your own accommodations for the night. Roger had promised that you could share his room, as you weren’t really in a position to afford a room in such a high-end hotel. If he decided to invite one of his new friends back to the hotel, you were out of luck. 

Glancing at John’s watch, you saw that it was past midnight. _How much longer could these boys possibly party?_ you wondered. Until you had returned to school for your master’s this past year, you had been teaching secondary school; as such, you had certainly never experienced a lifestyle like this. It was amazing to you that any of them could wake up and perform day after day when they wore themselves out every night. Stifling a yawn, you shook your head, trying to stay focused on the room around you. You’d only had a couple drinks, but they had settled you to the point of drowsiness, it seemed. 

“Tired?” Brian mouthed, raising an eyebrow. You nodded, stretching your arms above your head. He kept his eyes on your face, trying to ignore the bare skin of your abdomen you’d just exposed. 

“How much longer d’you think we’ll stay out, Bri?” you inquired. 

“Why don’t I grab his room key so you can get settled in at the hotel,” Brian suggested. Having been your brother’s friend for over a decade, it wasn’t an unusual offer for Brian to make. In fact, he’d been your designated driver after several parties in college. 

The two of you glanced back towards the dance floor, where Roger was now entangled with some bleach-blonde in a skimpy halter dress. His hands grasped the woman’s bottom, and she appeared to have suctioned her mouth to his. If your mother could see him now, she’d be mortified. 

“Roger’s blue-eyed floozy clearly wants to see if drummers bang as well after the concert as they do during,” John teased, to which you stuck your tongue out in mock disgust. Brian chuckled gently beside you. 

“You might be out of a room for the night, Y/N,” he commented. “All the ladies touring with us for costumes and makeup are sharing a room, but I don’t think they’ll have any space left. I can give them a call when we get back—” 

“No, no, that’s fine,” you waved him off. “I’ll have the reception desk call around to find me a room elsewhere, and I’ll just hail a cab back in the morning.” 

“That’s ridiculous,” Brian protested. “Just stay with me. You can take the bed, and I’ll throw a blanket on the sofa or something.” This suggestion was even more ridiculous; you’d seen the size of the sofas at the hotel, and there wasn’t a chance Brian and his long legs would fit there, even if you folded him into quarters. 

“I can’t take your bed, Brian,” you scoffed. “You need the sleep more than I do. I can rest on the plane tomorrow afternoon.” Ignoring your comments, Brian tossed back the remainder of his beer and extended a hand towards John. 

“I’m going to make sure Y/N gets back to the hotel,” he explained to the bassist, who clasped his hand firmly. “I’ll just head up to my room, so don’t wait for me.” You stood and followed Brian to the door of the club, weaving past handsy couples and groups of intoxicated dancers. To your surprise, there were still people lined up to get in, even after midnight on a weeknight. Even the traffic was busier than you could comprehend. 

“It really is the city that never sleeps,” you marvelled. You had gone to college in London, but the few cars and late-night pedestrians there were nothing compared to the hustle and bustle of New York City at all hours of the day. 

“Makes it tough to fall asleep here,” Brian responded, opening your door for you and sliding onto the bench seat beside you. “I think that’s why a lot of people just exhaust themselves every night; if they don’t, the lights and sounds are terribly distracting.” 

As you shifted yourself to face him, your skirt rode up your thighs, exposing a little more leg than you had intended to show. You quickly tugged it back down and pulled your coat tight around yourself. When you looked back at Brian, his eyes were locked on your legs. 

“Alright there, Bri?” you smirked, snapping him out of his daze. He shook his head and met your eyes, realizing he had been caught staring. 

“Just thinking,” he smiled awkwardly, lifting a hand to scratch the back of his neck. To your surprise, you felt a bit of a flutter in your stomach at the idea that Brian had been checking you out. It wasn’t an unwelcome feeling, you decided. 

Once you’d arrived back at the hotel, the two of you took the lift twenty floors up. The lift didn’t stop anywhere on the way up, and no one else got in with you on the mezzanine. Brian tried to keep his breath steady, but found it challenging when he stood inches from you, alone in such a tiny space. 

“Are the other boys’ rooms close to yours?” you inquired, waiting outside his door while he fished around in his trouser pockets for the room key. 

“Roger’s in the room to our left, Freddie to our right, and John’s across the way,” he informed you, turning the key in the lock. “I hope these walls are thick.” His comment made you giggle; as soon as he’d said it, however, Brian flushed pink, realizing that his words could be interpreted in more ways than one. 

When he flicked the light switch on, the room was illuminated. Everything was beautifully arranged, from the furniture to the drapery to the bathroom tissue, the loose end of which was folded in a neat little triangle. A bottle of champagne sat on the counter, a complimentary gift from the hotel. 

“This is really something,” you opined, impressed. Running a hand over the bedspread, you admired the delicate and simple floral pattern embroidered on the fabric. “When you walk into a room like this, do you feel like you’ve made it, Brian?” He rolled his eyes at you, choosing to abstain from commenting. For all his pride in the music they made, he was rather humble about Queen’s success in private. It made him almost uncomfortable to talk about finances, especially when there wasn’t a chance in hell that you’d have been able to stay somewhere like this on your meagre teacher’s wages. 

“Are you hungry?” Brian asked, taking a seat on the sofa. “I’m always starved after a show, especially when the boys would rather cozy up to their new friends than stop for food.” You stepped out of your heels, groaning with relief as your weight was redistributed properly across your entire foot. 

“I could definitely eat something,” you nodded, dropping down beside him on the sofa. You extended your legs across his lap. He looked down at your legs, unsure where to set his hands; he decided to throw one across the back of the sofa, and the other he placed on your ankles. 

“It’ll be a bit hard to call for food if I can’t get to the menu or the phone, you know,” he pointed out, running a thumb over a red line that stood out against your ankle; it appeared that the strap of your heel had dug into your skin too tightly. The gesture was strangely intimate, but you didn’t pull away. Brian’s curiosity had just got the better of him. 

“I’ve just got comfortable,” you frowned. “I can’t move now.” With a smile, Brian reached out and tapped at your pouted lower lip. You pretended to bite at his finger, making him laugh. 

“I guess that means you’re coming with me to get the menu, then,” he said decidedly. Before you could protest, he looped one arm beneath your legs and the other around your back, lifting you up from the couch as if you were a sack of feathers. 

“Brian, put me down,” you screeched, throwing your arms around his neck to keep from falling. He adjusted your weight in his arms before striding across the room. The menu was laid out on the desk beside the bed. It was easier for you to grab it than it was for Brian, as he had to hold onto you. He widened his stance to support the two of you, and stood in place as you both glanced over the menu. 

“1:00am is always a good time for a veggie pizza,” he thought aloud. “What do you feel hungry for?” 

“Veggie pizza it is,” you smiled, snapping the menu closed. Brian glanced down at you, admiring the curve of your nose and the bow of your lips. Resisting the urge to lean in and kiss you, he set you down gently on the edge of the desk so he could call down to order food. Disappointed by his hesitation, you decided to give him some space. 

“Do you think I could shower quickly?” you asked. You had realized on the ride from the club to the hotel that you smelled a bit sweaty after the events of the evening. Brian nodded in affirmation, holding the phone’s receiver to his ear. 

“It’ll take some time for them to bring the pizza up, anyways,” he guessed. “Have you got something to change into?” You bit your lip in annoyance, remembering that your bag had been delivered to Roger’s room. Brian pointed to his suitcase, which was tucked between the sofa and the wall. 

“Grab a shirt and some underwear,” he instructed. “Can’t say my trousers will fit, but my shirts will probably be as long as a dress on you.” With a shrug, you hopped off the desk and did as he had recommended. You chose a blue long-sleeve shirt and a pair of briefs, which you hoped would fit. Brian watched you pad across the carpet and into the bathroom, stumbling over his order as he tried to maintain his focus. After hanging up the phone, Brian flopped back down onto the sofa. 

“That girl is going to be the death of me,” he whispered to himself. 

* * * * * 

As anticipated, you fit decently enough into Brian’s clothes, although the shirt wasn’t quite as long as Brian had thought it might be. You shrugged indifferently; it was just Brian, after all. You were sure he’d seen a woman in her underwear before. After towel-drying your hair and combing through it with your fingers to the best of your ability, you opened the bathroom door. A bit of steam poured out into the main area of the room, so you turned the fan on to quell the build-up of condensation on the walls. 

Brian’s mouth fell open when he saw you; his shirt was just long enough to cover your underwear, but left plenty of leg to be seen. When you caught sight of the look on his face, you put your hands on your hips and shook your head. 

“If you’re going to stare at me, at least try to be subtle,” you teased, rolling your eyes. “If Roger walked in right now and saw his best friend eyeing up his sister like that, I’m sure he’d have words for you.” 

“Sorry, sorry,” he stammered, slapping his hands over his eyes. “I didn’t mean to be creepy.” You opened the linen cupboard and pulled out a folded flat sheet to cover your legs with. “I’m going to have a quick shower as well,” he announced, hurrying past you into the bathroom. The door slammed shut, shaking the glass of water Brian had filled from the sink outside the bathroom. 

“Hysterical queens, the lot of them,” you muttered, sitting down on the couch. Before you could unfold the sheet, however, you had a thought: Brian hadn’t taken any clothes into the bathroom with him. He was probably sweatier than you had been, as he had been on stage all night. You decided to be a nice person and find something for him to wear. After rifling through his suitcase for a pair of pyjama bottoms without success, you realized that he must not own any. Roger had never liked flannel bottoms or shorts either, you recalled, thinking back to when you both lived at home. 

“Briefs it is,” you shrugged, selecting a pair of pink briefs from the bottom of the suitcase. If he didn’t wear pyjama bottoms, he probably didn’t wear a shirt to bed, either. You waltzed over to the bathroom door, opened it enough to drop Brian’s briefs on the floor, and pulled it shut again. 

When he emerged from the bathroom 10 minutes later, his hair dripping wet and a towel wrapped around his waist, you were a bit disappointed. The prospect of seeing Brian in his shorts had riled you up a bit, if you were being honest with yourself. 

“Did you not see the underwear I brought you?” you questioned. 

“I’ve got them on,” he told you, squeezing the water from his wild curls with a second towel. “I just, umm...well, I don’t want—” He looked adorably shy, and was struggling to find the words to tell you so. 

“Brian, are you embarrassed to be in your underwear in front of me?” you asked softly. He didn’t respond, so you stood up from the sofa and walked over to him. When your hand touched his back, he tensed up, so you pulled away. 

“Y/N, I can’t take this towel off because I’ve…got a hard-on,” he sighed, pressing his forehead to the wall so he didn’t have to meet your eyes. “I can’t look at you without wondering what it would be like to kiss you, and I can’t bring myself to go for it, because I’m quite certain you would smack me, or Roger would murder me. So if you please, I’d appreciate a bit of space.” 

“Oh. But…I don’t want to give you space,” you frowned. “I’ve been waiting for you to kiss me all night, you silly, silly man.” As Brian looked up at you, his expression confused, a knock came at the door. You both froze, realizing that neither of you was in a proper state of dress to answer the door. A giggle bubbled up in your throat, and soon enough, the two of you were howling with laughter. 

“Just leave it outside the door, please,” Brian choked out, struggling to catch his breath. Tears were streaming down your cheeks, and the muscles in your stomach began to ache. Once you had calmed down, you went to the door, checked the peephole to ensure no one was standing outside, and quickly grabbed the pizza box from the hall. 

“Nothing cures an erection like pizza and a good laugh,” you effused, sending Brian into another fit of giggles. 

Eventually, the two of you sat down side by side on the sofa, and you draped the sheet over both your laps. This made Brian feel less self-conscious, and reduced the goosebumps that had popped up on your legs. The room was a little too chilly not to wear trousers, you realized. 

“So…” he started, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “You wanted me to make a move?” He took a bite of his pizza, getting a bit of sauce on his chin in the process. 

“I thought it might be nice,” you admitted, reaching up to wipe the sauce from his face. You licked it from your thumb before picking up a fallen piece of pepper from the bottom of the pizza box, which was balanced between the two of you. “But you don’t have to, if you don’t want to.” 

“Well…what would Roger say?” Brian challenged. “I’ve never met a man who’s been alright with his sister getting cozy with his friend.” He wasn’t wrong. You were sure Roger would have something to say about it, and it probably wouldn’t be good. 

“If neither of us says anything, he probably won’t ever have to find out,” you speculated. “He’s probably so focused on getting off with that bird from the club that he won’t even wonder where I’ve gone.” Brian pursed his lips thoughtfully, trying to think through possible ways to explain the situation in the event Roger did come looking for you. 

“So what you’re telling me,” he confirmed, “is that when we’ve finished this pizza, you’d like it if I kissed you.” You polished off your second piece of pizza, swallowing the last bite before you responded. 

“Have you got any toothpaste?” 

* * * * * 

By the time the other boys returned to the hotel from the club, you and Brian had both fallen asleep. Your back was pressed to his chest, and one of his arms was slung across your body, holding you close to him. 

It had been mutually decided that after the amount of alcohol you’d both had, it was probably best if you just stuck to snogging. Brian had been sweet and gentle, and had stuck to the decision you’d both made not to push things further, even when you’d tangled your hands in his hair and made attempts to push him past what you’d agreed on. You’d always known he was a good man, but this confirmed it. 

The sound of doors slamming in the hall woke you. As you tried to sit up, Brian tightened his hold on you, not wanting to lose the warmth of your body. 

“Don’t leave me,” he pouted, still half asleep. “Roger’s seen enough of you, it’s my turn.” You pressed a kiss to Brian’s forehead before nestling yourself up against him. As 

A girlish shriek and the smash of glass cut through the night, causing both you and Brian to sit bolt upright in bed. The sound had been slightly muffled by the walls, but it was loud enough to wake you and most of the people in the surrounding rooms. 

“That came from Roger’s room,” Brian whispered, shaking his hair from his face. Though you couldn’t see it in the dark, his bedhead was outrageous. 

“We should probably go check on him,” you groaned, kicking the blankets off. At the same time that Brian opened the door, John and Freddie opened their doors and wandered out of their rooms. The four of you, blinking in the bright hall lighting, looked at each other in confusion. 

“What’s happened?” John yawned. 

“Why is Y/N in _your_ room?” Freddie asked Brian. 

“Where the hell is Roger?” Brian demanded, ignoring Freddie’s question. 

“I reckon we should knock on his door and find out,” you insisted, pushing past Brian and John to get to Roger’s room. You pounded on the door with your fist, not caring that you were standing in only Brian’s shirt and underwear. At this point, Roger’s safety mattered more to you than whether he knew about your late-night rendezvous with his bandmate. 

“Roger,” Brian called out, leaning closer to the door. “Rog, open up. Is everything alright?” The door creaked open to reveal Roger, who was wrapped in a dressing gown. He looked to be alone, much to your surprise. 

“Darling, what’s going on in here?” Freddie inquired. “Have you hurt yourself or something?” 

“We heard a scream,” John elaborated. “Have you got someone in here with you?” Your brother shook his head and stared at the floor sheepishly. 

“I tripped over my suitcase and smashed a wine bottle on the desk,” he admitted quietly. “Sorry to have woken you.” 

“You should call housekeeping,” you sighed, leaning back against Brian. He draped an arm over your shoulder, ignoring the look of surprise on Roger’s face. 

“Goodnight, Roger,” Brian huffed, shuffling back down the hall with you beside him. “Sleep well, mate.” Freddie and John walked ahead of you, retreating into their rooms before they became involved in a conversation they didn’t want to be there for. 

“Y/N, are you joking me?” Roger called after you. “You can’t sleep with—” 

Brian slammed the door, cutting your brother off. The two of you fell into bed, barely caring enough to pull the blankets back up over you. 

“He’ll get over it,” you mumbled, throwing an arm across Brian’s chest. “He loves us both, so he can’t stay mad forever.” He pulled you closer, pressing his face into your hair. 

“Guess we’ll find out in the morning,” Brian shrugged, already drifting off again. For the remainder of the night and well into the morning, you slept soundly in his arms, blissfully unaware of the fact that Roger couldn't sleep a wink.


End file.
